Where Are The Sweeps Going?
by RoyalInBlue
Summary: Just a sort of Test more than anything else. I hadn't written in ages and I've never put anything on this site. This story takes place just after the game and extends many hundreds of Sweeps afterwards. Maybe. The trolls, all 12 of them, find themselves on a barren landscape, with nothing to do but wait for time to catch up, without the promise of dream bubbles after death.
1. Chapter 1

It was over. Over and done. That god-awful game was over. After all the trauma, the death and dying, the losses and the gains, the downs that far outweighed any advantages of the cruel game that was sgrub. No more would we have to play. We twelve were free to live normal, boring lives, and we chose to live them together.

It was far better than we could have dreamed. Nothing tried to kill us. None of us had a reason to fight anymore, we were able to wrap our heads around the human ideal of friendship beyond quadrants. the kids definitely had more to teach any of us than we'd have liked to admit, despite them being a ridiculously young and short-lived race.

Then, maybe it was that factor. Maybe living barely longer than a fly lets you slow time down mentally. Appreciate the smaller shit in life. live every second like it was your last or something, none of us knew. okay that was a lie, Tavros and Aradia certainly knew. Now that we were out though... out of Sgrub or Sburb or whatever, there was one last enemy none of us were strong enough to even acknowledge.

Time still flowed, but... the end was a lot more solid than we would have liked. Without the assured quality of dream bubbles after we shuffled off this mortal coil, where were we headed? was it the end? was it a new beginning or was there some bullshit shangri-la miracle fucking fantasy eternity after everything?

None of us knew and even though we didn't talk about it, we saw the fear in each others eyes. I think Gamzee and Feferi were the most terrified, which made a lot of sense. After you've been through the endless eternal hell that is the game we somehow all survived, you don't fear for yourself anymore. not a bit.

After that, you worry about others. And for our race, you worry about those who aren't even destined to live an inkling of the lives we're blessed- or cursed- with. I don't know, none of it bears thinking about. None of it should be fucking thought about.

We're all around 6 sweeps old for gods sake! What did we do wrong? Where did we sign on for hell before, through, and after that horrible experience? Why should we be deserving of such a fate?

None of it really mattered, I guess. Right now we were all alive, and I guess that's what mattered. So we stuck together for as long as we could, practically every second of every day. Gamzee even kicked his highblood tendencies, which was a blessing. He'd made his apologies and we'd all accepted it, even Eridan had been accepted.

The days kept rolling though. And the weight of the silence was awful from time to time. days would go by where we'd simply sit in each others company wordlessly. We'd been friends forged in the flames of Skaia, each traveling an individual path but walking together, like it or not. And after that you didn't leave the others behind. You couldn't. Maybe that's the games last laugh at you, because it was never a good thing.

After the first four sweeps, I felt it. I knew it. I was going to be the first to go. I hadn't even really thought about it, but my mutant blood color didn't assure me immortality and I hadn't even known how long I had, but... after that mark I started going downhill. Tavros, Aradia and Sollux were worn down, but me? By eleven sweeps I knew what was going to happen.

Was I afraid? what a stupid fucking question. I'd lived through Sgrub. I'd fought the black fucking king, I'd calmed a highblood on a murderous rampage, I'd helped save the universe I accidentally doomed by creating it.

Of course I was. I was terrified. I'd wake up in cold sweats, my skin progressively darkening to show what was happening. None of the others could bear to think about it, but I could see it. In the way they laughed a little less with every passing day, the way they hugged me closer, like they could prolong my unfair lifespan with love and attention somehow.

Well, all except one. Terezi. She was a refreshing little piece of honesty amidst a mass of fake smiles and well wishers. She would talk about it, try and help me prepare for the inevitable, and it helped more than fucking hugs ever did. if I actually knew what I was heading towards, maybe that would help.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

Twelve Sweeps.

Karkats death was maybe the hardest. We knew others were going, but Karkat first? He'd lead us through hell, through impossible times, through times we thought we'd never survive. Truth be told, sometimes not all of us made it.

But that's where the incredible side of Karkat came out. He would search, fight, die himself, just to find a way to cheat the rules. To bring back the ones he'd lost under his watch. He called himself a shitty leader and he believed it but if you'd asked any single one of us we'd have sworn loyalty to the mutant-blooded, bipedal anger management issue without a thought.

In the end, I think the most painful thing was that he died believing his falsities- that he was inadequate, that none of us cared. Something further from the truth none of us could have found. Even Equius, the snootiest of highbloods we knew acknowledged his abilities. Vriska, Eridan, Gamzee, Aradia, heck, even me.

The teal-blood. I knew that left me with a little while to go, and Karkats passing had thrown in sharp relief our fears. None of us were going to escape this. Tavros, Sollux and Aradia knew it. They were looking worse with every passing day, like karkat had and none of us knew who was going to pass first.

Gamzee was constantly on the verge of throwing his sanity away like he had. Tavros' aging wasn't slowing down and he was caught in a strange paradox. He knew how angry he felt, how helpless and alone he was even amongst everyone and he wanted to just give in to the urges and kill everyone at once.

Maybe that would be kinder. Maybe not having to worry about when our number came up wasn't so cruel? But... in the end, Gamzee couldn't do it. Every time he knew he couldn't hold it in any longer, one look at Tavros would fix that. Even without his Moirail, he could be calmed. Not calmed, per say, but he knew that Tavros wouldn't want it. He wanted everyone to enjoy every second, to love the life they had.

Just that notion kept all of us hanging in there. We barely even talked anymore. Those of us that couldn't move were presided over by those that could and it meant none of us were ever out of sight anymore. We'd stay within the same square radius on whatever planet we'd ended up on. None of that mattered. We were still together. Karkats leadership and ability to keep us united prevailed long after his passing.

Another three sweeps passed and it became glaringly obvious who was next. Aradia was going Karkats way, turning darker and thinner like rotten wood. Sollux knew it too and it was breaking him slowly, ironically, in two. ...If Sollux ever does read my little chapter of this monologue I should apologize for writing that.

As we neared the 16th sweep Aradia was too feeble to move anymore. It was heart-wrenching for all of us, especially those of us that had been close with her, myself included. She lay in a pod night and day, the sopor trying its near-sentient best to recuperate the unfortunate held within, but she wasn't going to make it to 16 sweeps and that painful fact was known to us all.

Maybe I'll write the next chapter of this thing too. I only found Karkats page by accident and I almost destroyed it when my tears hit it. I guess I'll keep it going until my time's up, macabre as that is. I'll write again when it's on the 16 sweeps mark. If I have the strength.


	3. Chapter 3

Sixteen Sweeps.

I almost couldn't do it. Write this. Aradias death was right on the night before she was Sixteen sweeps. Sollux... finally broke down. he couldn't function. He just keeled over and didn't even cry. What he did wasn't crying, it was sorrow itself. Feferi was minding him but nothing could have helped him.

Gamzee broke down too. nobody expected that to be honest. but he just... broke down. Tavros mostly had him in his lap, rocking him like a wriggler as Gamzees tears stained his clothes. I think it was the idea that his lifespan stretched so much further than most of ours that finally got to him and I honestly can't blame him. Nepeta and Kanaya weren't looking too hot either.

It wasn't a thing I'd ever be so unfairly insensitive as to place bets on, but... it wasn't hard to see who was likely next. Tavros or Sollux. They were both starting to exhibit the telltale signs of aging we'd seen so far and none of us knew who was further along the path to the infinite void.

Maybe that was another reason Gamzee didn't have the strength to keep himself upright these days. Either now or later, Tavros was going to die, and soon. Nothing was going to change that, not all the miracles in the world. I'm fairly sure He stopped believing in them a long time ago anyway.

Maybe I'm just getting sentimental like that. I'm not exactly a young troll myself, nostalgia provides an interesting release for me. I'd sit back and think about how all we used to think about were relationships and survival. Laughing at Karkat when we caught him with Romcoms, sighing with relief when one of us came back to life.

I'm babbling again. Apparently I do that a lot these days, I should say sorry. Again. I guess it's just another thing older trolls tend to do. Or maybe it's just me because as far as I can see, nobody else is keeping a diary. Vriska might be but none of us want to know what's in there.

I suppose I just write in this because it helps to deal with reality. Even just a description of what's actually happening provides me with a comforting wall between myself and what I'm writing. I know it's sad, and not the right way to deal with this, but... I stopped caring.

Another four sweeps passed and neither Sollux nor Tavros were showing signs of dying soon. Maybe we decided that they were secretly mutants or something and they'd live longer than we thought? Looking back, that was an idiotic notion.

We all finally started to see the truth in another two sweeps. We'd almost forgotten, but then, almost like the cruelest of jokes, Tavros started greying faster. He didn't have the strength to wheel himself anymore either. Of course Gamzee was hit the hardest by this revelation. he started to disappear for days, weeks at a time, just walking off. Sometimes we'd hear a stray honk or scream of frustration, mostly it was silence. Whatever the case, he came back exhausted. He'd ignore every other one of us and go straight to Tavros, clinging to him like he'd never let go again.

They always had these muffled exchanges that none of us were privy to. None of us wanted to encroach either. Secrets deserve to be left that way. before the game ended we'd have loved to have known what was going on there. maybe a Matespriteship was finally forming as Tavros looked back on his life? Maybe there was Pale love, as Tavros took up Karkats mantle of caring for the unstable one.

What did it even matter anymore. Life was trundling on like a human Tanker Ship. you didn't notice it was moving until it got to you it was so slow, but there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it.

Nobody really knew how, but Tavros exceeded all our expectations. by the time 23 sweeps had passed, he wasn't looking any worse. We all thought Gamzees hugs contained miracles or something stupid like that. We might have aged, but we were juvenile, as Karkat might have said, as fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty-Four Sweeps.

I don't know how much longer I can write this. Whether or not it's right or wrong. if it's cruel to the ones who've passed. if I'll even have the strength. I've been doing surprisingly well. But I really don't know if I can keep that up. My hands are shaking whenever I try to write and I don't know if it's my old age or the grief anymore.

Tavros died, anyway. That sounded nonchalant, but I tried so many other ways to express how I felt about that, how we felt about that. The pain, sorrow, everything rolled up into a dense ball of hollow agony that filled all of us.

Anyone reading this who knows a thing about us knows that Gamzee almost couldn't take it. Tavros had been doing so well right up to 23 sweeps, comparatively. In that last sweep though, everything went downhill. Like the cruel joke that it was.

Tavros lost the strength to even wheel himself around. Gamzee did his best to make him feel better about it. He really tried. But his fear always showed, and Tavros stayed afraid of the end. But his death... his death was different as well. We all knew it was awful but he'd had such a love for all things living that it kind of pervaded that sadness.

From beyond the grave or something, I guess, Tavros helped with our burdens. Almost like recompense for taking care of him after his FLARP accident. Had I seen him I would have told him it didn't matter, he didn't need to. Tavros never owed anyone anything. The poor sweet troll known as Tavros was one of the happiest trolls we knew right up until his dying day and it more than paid off anything he might have owed.

But I guess it was too late to tell him that. So far we'd seen nothing, no clue, no shred of evidence that there was life after the death we all faced. This was really the end. We all knew it now. Three of us passed on, and time was still hungry. It was going to devour us all in the end.

Gamzee... lost himself after that. he didn't get angry, or happy, or even sad, if sad is what you'd call it. He'd sit in Tavros' wheelchair, day after day, with the same blank frown on his face. The only way any of us could tell he was alive were the tears that streamed down his face every so often.

After that, nobody cared anymore. Eridan and Sollux stopped caring. Those two and Feferi became inseparable. Equius and Nepeta, of course, were the entire world for each other. But you could tell Equius was on the breaking point Gamzee had been. With every day that passed, Nepeta was a little less bright and bouncy, her kitty-charm that pervaded this existential gloom for so long was fading and we all knew it.

Everyone knew what was to happen next. Sollux. The hacker, and inscrutable half-asshole to us all was on his way out. It wasn't recent as far as we could tell, he still had over ten sweeps left in him at least. Feferi must've been unconsciously using her extended touch on him or something. would've helped if she'd known that earlier.

Not that I'm bitter, of course. I don't feel much of anything anymore. I tried to explore the planet but I just couldn't, somehow. The notion of even trying seemed vast and unrewarding, and my joints were starting to lock together like they hadn't before. Vriska had come full circle, somehow. She was the mother that Kanaya couldn't be. The three of us against time itself.

Funny how now that so much of us have died we've finally separated. it's no longer us any more. I'd say it was Equius and Nepeta in a huddle. Then Feferi, Sollux and Eridan all huddled up. Gamzee was just sitting by himself on the wheelchair owned by one of the few people he'd cared about in his life. And me, Kanaya and Vriska.

Funny how life worked out like that. We all thought that we'd be inseparable forever. I read Karkats page again and saw what he'd thought- friends till the end, forged in fire. Well the fire had long ago died in each of us. There was just nothing left to burn.


	5. Chapter 5

Thirty-Five Sweeps.

It's no longer a question of how I feel that dictates how this is written. This is a memo that keeps me sane. Reminds me I know a language, that I can communicate if I ever want to. Not that I think I ever will.

When Eridan destroyed that Matriorb all those sweeps ago, I wonder how many of us considered how vast the implications of his actions were. How we'd end up like this, huddled in a tiny tin shelter against a slowly dying universe as it pounded against the roof, the whole thing ready to blow over at any minute.

I should stop opening like that, all morbid and stuff. I guess there really is no other way to consider it. The fact that I can see my hands starting to grey and wrinkle faster, the way I can't smell as well as I used to, my hearing is dimming near-imperceptibly but enough that I know it's happening.

I wish I could fight English again. Play that game again. It sounds selfish, I know- that game was a thousand hells for every single one of us. But at least death wasn't much to be afraid of. Sure, he could pop dream bubbles, but we could just escape into other ones as the Horrorterrors blew more than English could destroy.

Ah, wishful thinking. I remember when my personality was like that. Thinking about my times with the Dave human, with Karkat, As a Scourge Sister. I was such a wishful thinker. Maybe It's coming back to rebound on me again as I wish for immortality, even though I know I'd regret it.

Well, I suppose I should eventually get to the point of this little Memo. Gamzee died. Nobody saw it coming, nobody even noticed. I can't tell you when he died, because for over two sweeps he hadn't moved from that chair, just sobbing quietly occasionally. Feferi noticed of course. His clothes were too dry, the streaks of paint still on his face hadn't moved.

You'd think we were numbed to the shock by now. You really would. But once again we all just came together and cried as the whole we had left. Feeling the unbearable silence left behind, the holes shaped once like trolls we'd known. And now Gamzee had joined it.

I can only surmise that after Tavros died he didn't see a point to breathing. That sounds dumb, but if you're in that state long enough I guess your body just has to shut down for the last time. His depression sunk so deep into his heart that the apathy stalled it. I know I should use troll terms like Blood-pusher and some such, but... I don't know. Again, nostalgia. Using words taught to us by the human children is a reminder of a time we weren't terrified of. or as terrified as we are now.

Sollux is looking pretty awful too. I hate to say it but I feel like we're all pretty knowledgeable on the subject of troll aging by now, even him. He knows he hasn't got two sweeps. Sometimes he gets angry about it, psiionics flaring from his whole being, lifting him up and scarring the planet itself with the force of his helpless rage.

Most of the time... He's just unable to move entirely. Hunched over with Feferi stroking his back, trying to give him the sense of purpose Gamzee didn't have. it worked, I guess? his body ticked on, fighting the ocean that had drowned many of us now.

It's funny... sometimes it feels like so many of us have died at this point but over half of us are still alive. Funny how when you hear about death you're always apart from it, you don't feel how huge it is to have someone disappear from your world forever. When it actually happens, when it's happened so often that people think you'd be numb to the shock, it encompasses everything.

It's a wave, not quite misery, not quite sadness, that barely even counts as such. A wave implies that you're moving. You don't. Everything stops. Everything but time. Nothing happens anymore. Grey clouds are permanently in the sky. No breeze blows, no sun shines through.

I can feel myself aging now. We all can, bar maybe the seadwellers. I pity them. When we're gone, when all they have left is each other... what will they do? it's a subject I don't like to approach. If thoughts of death are a wall, then thoughts of those two are like an abyss, stretching impossibly far down, beyond even the best eyesight.

Sometimes I feel glad that I'm going to die sometime. Maybe even soon if I'm lucky. I can't bear all this sadness anymore. I only write this, as I said, to keep myself going mad, and then it's a trade-off, sadness for sanity. I'll write again when Sollux dies.

Maybe.


	6. Chapter 6

Thirty Seven Sweeps.

Well, I half-promised. it's been only two sweeps this time. Funny how after you've had so much time, even huge chunks of time seem to pass in the blink of an eye. I can barely write whole paragraphs anymore, and it's not the grief, it's that I'm just running out of things to book weighs heavy with the lost memories I don't want.

Feferi, of course, was inconsolable. For days and days she cried, screamed, tore at her hair, the whole nine yards. God I'm getting insensitive. Not two sweeps ago I was talking about how every death is unique, and every one hurts like the first. I'm not entirely sure if I believe it any more.

Of course, that isn't to say that I felt nothing as we laid Sollux to rest. Eridan, Equius and Vriska are the only ones who can dig the holes we use now. I'm starting to get on, as is Nepeta and Kanaya. Feferi just... couldn't face it. When we sat around that pile of dirt, knowing another friend lay beneath it, she ran.

She came back maybe half a sweep later? time has become so dulled to me, so inconsequential that it's a whole new level of impressive that I can still count the sweeps we've all had. I guess I'm just afraid that I'm the only one. I'd like to know how many I got when I die. Like some sickening high score.

Eridan was pretty profoundly shocked as well. He and Sollux didn't have a lot of good times to share but they'd had a connection nobody else had. Maybe wanted either, but you couldn't blame him. His later Blackrom crush was gone and he wouldn't be able to join him for many, many sweeps. hundreds, even.

He and Feferi became like Equius and Nepeta. Nepeta wasn't looking so good, but that was par for the course. None of us cared to gauge how many years she had, how many any of us had. me, Kanaya and Vriska were still a unit. I've gained a whole lot of respect for Vriska. She's done a good job, keeping us all going. It can't be easy. It's not that we're even apathetic anymore. Most of us just want it to end. when we sleep we dream of a comforting bed of dirt, prepared by those who'd loved us.

I feel as though the pages I write are becoming shorter. I honestly don't know what to think about this, I don't even care for my sanity anymore. Why I take the time to punctuate, dot my i's, cross the t's. it all feels so useless now, and yet... The barrier between me and reality held by this writing is all I have left. Besides my aging troll friends.

It's gotten to... what, 44 sweeps now? Nepeta is really heading downhill. We all know she's next. Equius is doing what Gamzee used to. He'll head off for a while. Break some things. but he always comes back after maybe ten minutes. Nepeta can barely even move anymore and he comes running back to her and scoops her up, holding her close and sobbing as they give each other all they have left- the warmth of fleeing life.

I think Nepetas death is going to be the most painful one since Karkat. She was so sweet and caring while we were playing, and even if she didn't like some of us, she had what nobody but Karkat had- Tolerance. And she had it in spades. When one of us messed up she wasn't mad, or angry. She would just smile, tilt her head in that way she had and wait for us to try again, because she knew we could get it right, no matter what we did.

it's... I think it's 48 sweeps now. Nepeta's close. We've all taken to huddling in a group again. hugging, crying, even smiling sometimes. I guess I switch between sadness and jealousy. her passing is going to be tragic, but I wish I could just die. I can't, though. I rely on Vriska and Kanaya and in turn they need me. I can't abandon them anymore than I could bite off my own tongue.

Looks like I'm getting slowly more deranged. I guess that's to be expected. But as I have stated numerous and plentiful times by now, I don't care.


	7. Chapter 7

Fourty-Nine Sweeps.

I suppose I'm writing in this now, so I should introduce myself. Vriska. To whom it may fucking concern. If you know me you're probably expecting some bullshit '8' references. Don't hold your breath. If there's any live being able to read this.

We all gave up on quirks so long ago I don't even remember. It's actually kind of pathetic that I even remember! Maybe I stopped when Tavros died. That sounds about right. I've looked back on this writing and Terezi seemed to not have noticed that I was pretty deeply shaken by it too, even if I didn't show it.

Boy, for one who seemed to be able to pick up on how we were feeling, she didn't do so well on me. I guess her compliments were nice. Stopped me from wanting to rip my own horn off and sever my jugular.

But I guess if you're reading this, you want to know what's up. Not that you wouldn't already know having read past pages. Nepetas gone. It happened. The catalyst for all the shit we'd been holding back finally occurred and we just screamed like a pack of wild animals. it was terrifying I suppose, the way we sank down to primal animals in the face of what we faced.

Equius didn't stay long. but we could feel his presence. And no, not in a soul-searching kind of way. in the way that the ground would constantly shiver, quake and even crack every ten minutes or so for at least... shit, thinking back it must've lasted 50 god damn sweeps, his fury and horror and everything else was so deeply ingrained.

I don't think I could blame him. Losing Nepeta was losing the last thing Equius had in the world. I don't like to think of what Karkat said as some sort of bible, but Terezi did quote him for a reason- he knew what was going on. After that game, none of us could live for ourselves. Not even me. And even as nice as that sounds, when all you have left is yourself and you feel that way... trust me. It rebounds on you.

After his rampage he just... lost himself. His strength left him and he couldn't lift a pebble, never mind himself, from the ground. So he laid there and sobbed as time went by. Terezi thought he was going to die the same way Gamzee did, but I knew better. Even if his outer strength was gone, that curse that was Equius' titanic body would not let him die until it was good and ready, regardless of emotion.

Terezi started going insane. It was slow at first but I saw it. I did my best to hold it back, I really did, but it was a mountain of cascading sand and I couldn't hold it back, try as I might. She started pacing around the graves, begging her fallen friends to get up, getting angry, getting sad, but the want on her face broke my heart. Kanaya, too. Feferi and Eridan were just... existing. Locked in each others arms, royal bloods together. I saw Terezi's writing on the subject. I have to say I agree.

Maybe I'll try and calm Terezi down soon. it's approaching our one-hundred-thirtieth sweep and Kanaya really isn't looking good. I don't want Kanayas last times clouded by Terezi screaming in her face. Is that selfish? Maybe it was at some point.


	8. Chapter 8

One Hundred and Thirty-Six sweeps.

I don't know what to write. It's stupidly obvious. Kanaya passed away last night. Not that something as small as one night is even relative to us anymore. Time has burned us away to our core. There's only five of us left. Five, of the once-unstoppable group of twelve troll kids.

Equius hasn't moved, but he's alive. his body shakes sometimes, racked with the sorrow of a thousand trolls. I might have known how he felt if I'd ever gotten closer to anyone. Some people might say that this situation would bring those left over together. I'd kindly suggest those people take that opinion and ram it right into their nose-holes.

For maybe the first time, we kind of just... moved the body where we wouldn't have to see it. None of us had the strength to dig anymore. nobody even wanted to try and make Equius do the work, and I can feel myself starting to age.

It's about time too. All I can think about anymore is the day where It's not my responsibility to write in this stupid thing anymore. I know, it's all kinds of stupid to refer to writing in this strange, eternal book as a responsibility, but somehow... it feels right. Like if nothing else, there's a chance someone might read our story.

That would be nice. Even if they didn't like my character. Having Tavros live again in someone elses mind sounds like a good gift. None of the trolls live in our minds anymore. It's been too long. Maybe the higher-bloods as a species live too long. I wish it wasn't that way.

I'm starting to envy the humans. The way they all die at once. I'm sure if there was a human about who read this, fat chance, they might go so far as to be offended. Not like it's my problem. Once you've lived as long as I have, you stop caring.

it's approaching my One Hundred and Sixty-Eigth Sweep now. Terezi is still shouting. If you could call it that. Her voice has gotten so hoarse that it's really an elevated whisper, and tears just keep streaming down her face. unceasingly, as she crawls around the graves, not able to dig them out, but pleading them to come back.

Maybe I would too. I should get her to write another entry in this. Maybe I'll try sometime. I think she was always better at writing longer entries, looking back at this I'm ashamed that I couldn't give Kanaya a better page. These are all I, all any of us have to give them. A page in a book.

Sometimes I want to tear this thing apart. Just shred the memories, spit on them, defy them. Defy their deaths. but I can't. I'm still capable of rational thought. One Hundred and Seventy-Six Sweeps later, and I'm still capable of Rational thought. Maybe that's some kind of Record. Eridan, Equius, Feferi and Terezi seem to be falling down on that front. If I was still as competitive as I was over A Hundred and Fifty Sweeps ago I'd be proud of myself.

Maybe.


	9. Chapter 9

One Hundred and Seventy-Eight Sweeps.

I should have asked. I should have fucking asked. but now it's too late. There's no melancholy introduction to this one. Terezi died a few days ago.

It's been the worst one for me since Tavros. She was my sister in all but blood, and even then some. We were... We were the mighty scourge sisters, pirate vigilantes against evil! We were so young and free, and happy, even if I was happy for what could be perceived as the wrong reasons.

Her death was... sudden. I barely noticed when her voice dropped one more octave and she stopped moving, slowly falling over. Beside Karkats grave, of all places. After all these Sweeps, she hadn't given up trying to figure out what was between them. it would've been cute if I'd been able to see much.

I've been crying. Don't think shame is a thing that exists anymore. But I'm writing it because it's the first time I've cried in A Hundred Sweeps or more. I wish that was some kind of exaggeration, I really do.

It's gone past two hundred sweeps. I've been feeling a little better. Sometimes the waterworks get flowing, and I can't stop it anymore. Equius is still alive. Eridan and Feferi still cling to one another. I feel what Terezi felt now, looking at them and so close to death myself.

I'm thankful. I guess this won't make much sense but I've been leaving so many Sweeps in between paragraphs of writing. It's all I can do. I'll just lay down and let time do it's thing. At a rough approximation I'd say it's been about Two Hundred and Fifteen sweeps now.

God, but that's so many. I look down every few sweeps to see how far my skin has darkened, how much longer I have to endure this torment. I'd say I only have a good Seven Sweeps before my time is up. The Seadwellers... I get a little depressed thinking about what's in store for them.

it's been Two hundred and Thirty Five Sweeps. I'm going to die soon. Funny how that sounds when I write it out myself. You'd expect some melancholy edge or something. A tinge of sadness with the words. Maybe other people who read deep enough see that. I just feel happy. I almost smiled when I saw how wrinkled and grey my skin was. This is the last paragraph I'm going to write in this book. I'm going to make Feferi write in it as my last wish. It's cruel, but...

Maybe this has to be done.


	10. Chapter 10

Two Hundred and Sixty Three Sweeps.

Well... I don't know. I'm surprised I can even write anymore, but Eridan's been helping. We must have hugged for over Seventy Sweeps! ...it feels a little good, knowing I can at least pretend that there's some of my personality left that hasn't drained away.

Equius has been maybe the most hurt. There's only three of us left, on this planet I can only assume is our punishment for escaping that game. Maybe we were all meant to die there. Maybe we're all offshoots and in the alpha timeline there's versions of us who still fight, or exist in dream bubbles together?

I was so excited when I created those... I didn't want my friends to worry about the end and suddenly, they didn't have to! Death just meant that you had time to reflect, and make a better person of yourself. I guess it was a good idea while I was so young and afraid, but... if I'm true and the alpha me and the rest are all trapped in those bubbles for eternity... I'd have to say sorry.

I'm following the tradition Vriska and Terezi set down- Leaving Ten or so Sweeps between paragraphs. It feels good being able to do that. Having something to look forward to after every expanse of time. It's a purpose. This book is a blessing in disguise, the more I think about it.

I don't know what goes on in Eridan or Equius' heads any more. I didn't understand them intimately in the first place, for which I feel I should apologise, wow that sounded like Terezi! but... I should have known them better than I do. I might have been able to help them. As it is, Equius is starting to look older. I think he noticed. He isn't crying as much.

Oh! i forgot... Vriska died. I'm going to hate myself after this paragraph is done, I know it. I should have mentioned her straight away, but I had to pen down how I felt! I don't think I could have done it differently. but... For all my want and self-fulfillment I take from this, she's still dead. I don't... I don't know how to feel about it. Maybe in Ten or Twenty Sweeps I will.

I guess it took me Fifty whole sweeps to figure out what I felt. Nothing. I know, I know, it sounds awful but... I don't know! So many of my friends who were more important to me have passed on! I think I cried myself out of tears when Sollux died. I don't like thinking back on that. He died... He died so young...

I'm putting in this entry Half a Sweep later because... Well, because Equius is dying. With every word I write I feel like a worse person because I write this so calmly. Right now Eridan is all I know, because He and I are all that's going to be left... and We're going to live for Hundreds and Hundreds of Sweeps and I don't think I can manage to stay sane until I die...Not anymore...


	11. Chapter 11

Three Hundred and Eighty-Four Sweeps.

I'm writing this now. Don't think you need to be introduced, there's only two of us left. After Equius died, Fef walked. I don't know where she was goin, but she walked away. I'm waitin for her to return. I think I'm gonna leave at least fifty sweeps in between these paragraphs. Make it a challenge. Give me a reason to keep track a time.

I made it. heck, I overstepped it. It's been over a Hundred fuckin Sweeps. I don't know how I'm keepin my sanity. Maybe it's somethin seadwellers can do. Accept the passing of friends. I don't know. Not sure if this is a blessin or a fuckin curse.

Overstepped again, but only by Twenty Sweeps. Me and fef ain't showin signs of aging. She came back. We just hugged, like we used to. But... it's different now. it's not that she's afraid of dyin, or her friends dyin. She's afraid a livin. So am I really.

This time... Fuck. I'm Six Hundred and Twelve fuckin Sweeps old. And I'm still not lookin that old and Fef looks younger. Me an her just decided to walk together. For so long we didn't. Leaving the bodies of our friends behind was the most painful thing I ever done. Even though... Even though most of em are already part of the planet I'm walkin on now. That thought scares me but it brings peace, too.

It's been Seven Hundred Sweeps. we've been walkin for so long it's a miracle we haven't gone full fuckin circle. Me an fef found water occasionally. We haven't even needed nourishment on this planet, which frankly shoulda tipped us off that we were in hell or some shit. Maybe we're just being punished based on the sins of our class. Makes sense. 'Specially why me an Fef gotta endure the longest torture.

Seven Hundred and Fifty Sweeps now. Lookin back, this is a pretty fuckin pathetic log of that time. it's been over Four hundred Sweeps since Equius died. I think his death marked the last part of the sharp pain. Now it's so much fuckin worse. I see Fef and yet... I look through her. She doesn't need to eat but she's the thinnest, palest, sorriest troll I ever seen. And it don't get better. I know when she looks at me because she doesn't see a friend anymore. I'm startin to grey. My time is catchin up to me and I can't be more fuckin thankful.

This is gonna be my last paragraph in this strange, undying novella a our tragedy. I'm Eight hundred and Five Sweeps old and I'm really dyin at last. I think when I realised I wept, but it was tears a fuckin joy. The only thing I had to regret was leavin Fef alone on this barren waste, but hopefully she joins me soon. Maybe there is somethin after the end for us. I don't think so. Thank fuckin god for that. I'm so tired a life now.


	12. Chapter 12

Eight hundred and Eight Sweeps.

...I'm alone.

I'm all alone.

Eridan died, and all he could think of was my turn.

I'm not even writing chapters. It has been... exactly One Thousand Sweeps now. My grief is never-ending. I cannot die until my time is up and it is the single more horrifying curse I have ever thought of. I hate my blood color. I hate my extended life! I hate all of this! This is all so... unfair! Why am I still alive! Why can't I just... why can't I just FUCKING die!

...It's been Twenty Sweeps. My name is Feferi Peixes. I am One Thousand and Twenty Sweeps old. and I am going to die, very soon. I can only hope that it isn't longer than Ten Sweeps.

My Name is Feferi Piexes. I am One Thousand and Twenty Four Sweeps old and this is the last thing I will ever write. I thank my friends for all the good times. Eridan, Equius, Vriska, Terezi, Kanaya, Nepeta, Sollux, Gamzee, Tavros, Aradia and Karkat. You have given me the best life I possibly can hope for. Even if the longer end was... not worth thinking about. My skin is grey, wrinkled. My eyes are dimming and I must stop now and let myself die. it's funny... I'm not actually that scared, thinking about it. Good bye.


	13. Epilogue

Time is Irrelevant.

The wind slowly began to howl around the body of Feferi Peixes. Similar winds howled around Eridan, and Equius, and Vriska, and Terezi, and Nepeta and Sollux and Gamzee and Tavros and Aradia and Karkat.

Faster and Faster the wind whirled, tornadoes sprouting up around the mysteriously non-decayed bodies. For how long they span, who knows. Unlike the trolls, This Chronicler is not interested in such things.

When they finally died down, the bodies were still there. But they were clean, as they day they were born. Not alive, of course. But unkempt. Each one side-by-side in a perfectly square, Six Foot Deep hole each. it was the least they deserved. The very least.

Although The Chronicler made it clear time is not his purpose, for the purpose of keeping the flow I will tell you that the next part of the story takes place many, many hundreds of Sweeps later, and in a place where Sweeps were not the unit of measurement for the concept of time understood by all creatures sentient.

It took place on the world inhabited by humans. Well... humans and trolls. it should come as no surprise to the reader that after the human inhabitants came home from their adventure, in an earth not ravaged by the horrors of Crockercorp or Sburb, they weren't able to forget their friends.

Trolls soon sprouted up. It was difficult for them to merge with the community, but in this world they were soon accepted as equals. This may seem rather lackadaisical a manner of beginning a method to wrapping the story up, but it is rather up you to decide whether or not an ideal world is too much to ask for.

Coming off of that tangent, in one particular troll hatching factory, something incredibly impossible was happening. Something that had not quite happened before. Instead of regaling you with the detail you would rather not have, The Chronicler will instead transcribe what happened by those who were there.

In this factory two workers sat side-by-side, staring at the wriggler cages. They weren't to insinuate the trolls young were pets, lord no but it was simply easier to keep them there until they molted into their proper forms and started learning to walk. The cages are not the important detail.

The factor that had them staring was the number and the diversity. Twelve Trolls Wrigglers, one in each separate section of the cage. None of them could sleep, but they seemed to cover the entire spectrum of blood castes trolls came in. From Dark Red to bright Violet, even...

"Hey, is that a Lime blooded Wriggler? Holy shit! I thought those went extinct, how the hell is this one here?"

"Yeah, that's weird. What's weirder is that these Wrigglers keep bonkin' their little horns against the door of their section, never seen anything like it. Anyway, you want some coffee Jake?"

"Dirk if you think I am letting you get me a drink without watching to see if you spit in it ever again you are sorely mistaken. I'm coming with you."

With much fussing, the two left the trolls to their devices. When they returned, however, Styrofoam coffee cups hit the floor and they kneeled down, looking in.

All twelve had gathered into one enclosure. All of them. And if looks were not deceiving, it was... the Lime Bloods enclosure? What could this possibly mean? The other extraordinary thing was that all twelve were curled up, soundly asleep, for the first time since they'd hatched.

"Um... Dirk I don't mean to sound spiritual, but... Is this some kind of past life hullabaloo? I don't think anyones ever recorded this kind of behavior in... ever!"

"Jake, How do you expect me to answer that. What i do know is what's right in front of me. And you know what I see? Sleeping grubs and Spilled coffee. Come on, let's get refills and a mop."

And so, they left the universe to work it's little piece of magic. Or Miracle. it wasn't important. The Chronicler hears your cries, asking how this is in any way possible. Well, not even The Chronicler himself, in all the glory it takes to be able to pick up a story and finish it, cannot answer that.

What he can say is that maybe this is because it was meant to be. Maybe some friendships truly can withstand the test of a Thousand Sweeps and survive into better times. Maybe no existence truly dies, maybe it just switches design in this Magic Show of a world. Who knows. The Chronicler certainly does not.

**AUTHORS NOTE**

If you have had the kindness and patience to read all the way through this then all I can do is thank you! To those of you that leave reviews, critical or otherwise, thank you! You all help so much, you don't even know ;u;


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